When destiny calls
by eJemima
Summary: When magic starts to corrupt the British government, Albion calls upon her Once and Future King. But, things aren't what they seem to be and with a dark prophecy in play, a centuries old war is reaching its devastating end. A war, with two men caught in the middle, as its unwilling main players. Once again, one with their destinies intertwined, but for what purpose? Merthur
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hello everyone!

Sorry about the confusion, but I'm in the process of editing and reposting this story, hopefully making it better and more collected.

There will be small differences and addings with each chapter, so even if you've already read the story, I would recommend reading it from the beginning again, because there's some important additions, the new beginning of the story being one of them :)

Hope you like what Iøve done to the story :)

* * *

Moriah dried the tears from her eyes as she stopped in front of the door to her home. A small apartment she shared with her parents. She shook off the voices of her classmates, their laughs at her misfortune and their taunting words. She didn't want her mother to see her like this and she didn't want her father to comment on how useless she was.

Not again.

Moriah heard the gunshot the moment she opened the door. Her mother's eyes were the first thing she saw, as the older woman collapsed on the floor.

"No!" She screamed and ran to her mother, catching her, just as she fell.

"Moriah, sorry..."

The woman breathed before her eyes closed and body went limp. Tears fell on pale skin as Moriah felt a sob working its way through her troath, making it hard to breathe.

"No, mom please, don't leave me..." She whimpered and rested her head against the cooling forehead.

"Let this be warning to you Ivan." A deep and rough voice spoke up, "If you don't have the money by next week, we'll come for your daughter. I'm sure we can earn a few bucks on her, despite her freakish look."

"Why?" Moriah asked aloud after the men had left the apartment, "Why didn't you save her?" She looked up at her father as he still sat, kneeling on the middle of the floor where the men had left him, "Had you used your magic, you could-"

"Don't!" He interrupted her and gave her a hateful glare, "Don't you ever say that word!"

"Why?!" Moriah shouted back, gently putting down her mother's head, "Why are you so afraid of it?! If you would just use it, if you would teach me, we could-"

The heat followed the pain as the flat hand collided with her cheek. She glared up at her father, as he stood above her, eyes wide in fear.

"Don't ever even think about using it!" He said, voice shaking, "It's evil, it's wrong and using it will consume you."

Moriah stood up slowly, holding her father's glare and caressing her sore cheek.

"That sounds pretty good to me right about now." She sneered angrily, "Anything is better than this. Anything is batter than having to hide who you really are and deny something you were born with."

"Moriah..." Her father said in a warning tone as the girl stormed out of the living room and locked herself in the bathroom.

Turning from the door she found a young girl, in her early teens, with purple hair, messy and reaching her shoulders, skin and bones wearing ragged and worn clothes, two eyes, one a light green and the other a deep blue. Moriah walked closer to the mirror and touched the glass slowly.

"I hate you." She whispered, voice strained and shaking with anger, "I hate you so much, you worthless piece of shit."

"Come now, don't be so hard on yourself, love."

A voice spoke suddenly, making Moriah turn around, but found no one in the room. An amused chuckle resounded between the naked bathroom walls.

"Who...?"

"You're sick of it, aren't you?" The voice continued, "Sick of being used, feeling wrong, ashamed. An outsider. Tired of them constantly degrading you?"

Moriah turned back to the mirror and saw a shadowy figure appear in it. She moved closer, hesitating. Squinting her eyes, trying to make out the shadow, which seemed to only be in the mirror.

"I know exactly how you feel. Believe me..."

Moriah stopped inches from the mirror and reached out, feeling the cold glass against her fingertips.

"Who... what are you?" She asked again, something in her told her she ought to feel scared by the strange phenomenon, however it was the exact opposite. She felt a strange warmth and familiarity as the shadow in the mirror slowly became clearer, revealing a woman, dressed in a black dress, with raven black hair and dark eyes.

"My name is Morgana Pendragon and I was like you, Moriah."

"Morgana?" Moriah repeated, the name seeming slightly familiar to her. The woman smirked and nodded. She then crooked her head, looking at Moriah for silent moment.

"You really are one of us." She then said, voice amazed, "I thought I had been the last and yet, here you are, after 1500 years..."

Moriah blinked confused and looked back at the woman calling herself Morgana.

"What do you mean? One of you?" She asked and bend over the sink, closer to the mirror.

"A high priestess." Morgana clarified, "A sorceress and a powerful one at that... It's time for you to realize that."

Moriah looked at herself in the mirror, she let out a gasp as the brown spot in her blue eye suddenly changed form.

"You're a High Priestess Moriah," She heard Morgana's voice ring in her ears, "A High Priestess of the Old Religion."

A small smirk crept across Moriah's chapped lips, as the spot turned to a small tree with visible roots and felt a warm tingling spreading from the core of her stomach to her fingertips.

"Yes..." She then whispered.

(…)

 _Mom, no!_

Morgan was torn awake by the scream. Woken with a feeling of complete hopelessness and grief, which still dominated his body, as he sat up, adrenaline coursing through him. He was breathing heavily, naked chest raising and falling rapidly. Pearls of sweat ran over cold skin. Hands shaking.

He looked around him.

It was still dark, no doubt only a few hours since he'd last been conscious.

He heard the light snores of his guests. Morgan couldn't help feeling a little jealous that their fix somehow still worked, while he himself, had been so rudely interrupted in his bliss.

Sighing heavily, Morgan pulled aside the torn fabric he had slept with and stumbled to his feet from the worn mattress on the floor. He graphed a hoodie, pulled up the hood, leaving it otherwise unzipped, as he stepped over the sleeping people sprawled on the floor.

Graphing a half-smoked joint on the coffee table, Morgan stepped out on the small balcony, lighting up the joint.

He rested his arms on the rail and took the first inhalation.

The view from the balcony wasn't anything spectacular.

A back alley with a few dumpsters, cats, rats and then the windows of the next-door apartments, which was all but dark, except for one. The old man Rogers, who spent yet another night in front of the telly.

Morgan breathed in and inhaled once again, beginning to feel the small buzz from the drug spreading in his body, amplifying the drugs still in his system from earlier.

The light tingle in his fingers grew and overwrote the shaking of his hands. The fuzzy feeling in his head numbing him.

The nightmares were nothing new.

In fact, they were probably the most constant in his entire life, despite his own effort to thwart them.

It had been 15 years already and yet, that night kept on haunting him, even in his waking hours. The only relief he seemed to be able to find these days, were when his fix, every now and then, momentarily would lead him into the imaginary world of the stories his mother had told him as a child.

A world of kings and queens, knights, dragons and most of all - magic.

Of undying loyalty, love, friendships and devastating betrayals.

The stories, his Arthurian obsessed mother had told him, when he was a young child.

The legends of the great King Arthur and his faithful warlock, Merlin.

Children's stories, he'd been told

A child's lively imagination.

That's all it had been.

Yet, to Morgan, whenever a fix brought him those dreams, it felt more real than reality itself.

He felt everything in those dreams.

The power inside him.

The cold ground beneath him, sleeping under the trees in the wild forest.

The pain from the arrows and spells.

The wind through his hair, riding the dragon. The gentle and playful touch of a dear friend.

It had always felt more real to him than anything else.

Morgan looked down at his hands. Stretching and closing them a few times. He remembered, as a kid playing and pretending he was able to do magic, like the Merlin of his mother's stories. He would dress up as a warlock for Halloween, pointy hat, wand, and everything and then run through the garden of his first home, imagining he was riding a great dragon and fighting evil priestesses.

When Morgan's mother had died that night, the stories were all he had left of her. The stories had become dreams and his only mean of escape in a cruel and lonely world.

The years that followed his mother's death was full of different foster homes and admittance in and out of psychiatric wards. Of people telling him that his mother had filled him with lies and everything he felt wasn't real.

When Morgan turned 18, people finally stopped caring about him and just left him on his own.

Morgan drew another breath, inhaling the last of the joint before he threw it over the rail and in the next second, he heard the front door to the apartment slam open. He heard shouts, gunfire, running feet and general chaos from inside the apartment.

The door to the balcony suddenly slammed open and one of his comrades stumbled out. His eyes landed on Morgan, bewildered, frightened before another shot was heard and said friend fell backward over the rails. Morgan covered his mouth, trying to drown the scream threatening to erupt and soon heard the sickening thud of the body hitting the dumpsters beneath him.

"Did I get him?!" Someone shouted from inside the apartment and suddenly it felt like time slowed down.

Morgan stood, frozen in place, heart beating like crazy, as someone stepped out on the balcony.

The first thing Morgan noticed was the black police uniform and bulletproof west. Then was the dirty blonde hair, the strong cheekbones and then the eyes, as he turned to find Morgan.

 _Arthur._

Morgan felt everything around them stop as eyes locked.

 _'I can't lose him! He's my friend!'_

The desperate scream from his dreams resounded in his mind. The feeling of relief and happiness mixed up with utter confusion and fear.

What was happening?

How was it happening?

How could the man, Morgan had dreamt about his entire life, suddenly stand right in front of him?

"Pence?!" Another shout from inside the apartment, "Did I get him? Is someone out there?"

The blonde held up his hand, stopping whoever talked to him from coming out, eyes still locked on Morgan.

"No." He said, voice deep and then tore his eyes from Morgan, looking inside, "There's no one here. We got them all."

With one last look at Morgan, the man turned and went back into the apartment. It was only a few minutes later that the footsteps faded and the sound of a door closing left a complete silence. Morgan let out a breath he'd been holding back and slid down the wall, his legs giving away under him. He drew a shaky breath, feeling tears welling up in his eyes.

Morgan pulled up his legs and rested his head on knees, as tears fell freely.

It wasn't sad tears, but they came with an unfamiliar feeling of relief and happiness, something which confused him even more.

It was as if his heart knew something, his mind had yet to understand.

(...)

 _Merlin!_

 _Do you ever do as you're told?_

 _I've come to quite like you..._

 _I can't let him die..._

 _Shut up Merlin!_

Arthur opened his eyes slowly, finding himself staring up at the rays of the early sun and shadows of his bedroom ceiling.

He let out a groan and rubbed his eyes, trying to rid himself of sleep. He had dreamt again. Ever since meeting that man during the drug raid a week ago, Arthur had found himself dreaming about the stranger. His thick black hair, deep blue eyes, holding surprisingly much wisdom...

At least he thought it was him. Although the setting and situations were so far from anything he knew in his life, the man still looked like the one he called Merlin in his dreams, while dressed up as a knight, prince, and king in a medieval Britain.

Arthur knew he was named after the legendary king, his father having great expectations of him, but this was ridiculous. And why him?

A complete stranger. A criminal who he should have arrested along with the others but let go. Why had he let him go?

Arthur sat up in bed, feeling Ashley move in her sleep next to him.

Dreaming about some random guy, while sharing the bed with his fiancé was just wrong.

So very wrong.

Arthur drove a hand through his blonde hair, letting out a long sigh. He needed to get to work. Needed to preoccupy himself with something to get his mind off the strange meeting. He needed distractions. A cruel murder, a complex theft - anything would do.

(...)

Morgan was lost in his own thoughts, walking through the crowd of busy people in downtown London.

His mind was reeling. The past week had been one strange occurrence after the other. Strangers bumping into him, seemingly on purpose, giving him long strange looks, as if it was supposed to mean something. Not to mention the cop from that raid.

Pence, was it?

Morgan found himself unable to shake the man off his mind, along with the feeling that had appeared during their short meeting and even more so, the deep, suffocating, annoying longing to see him again.

Morgan looked up from the pavement and found a large group of people gathered outside an alley, talking rapidly amongst themselves and holding up their phones, taking pictures and filming.

Curious about what was going on, Morgan walked up to them.

The first his eyes landed on was the blonde-haired man with the black coat and police batch around his neck. He was talking to someone, dressed in a grey coat with a notepad. Morgan's heart skipped a beat and couldn't stop a small smile from creeping across his lips. Something which made Morgan freeze and take a step back, shaking his head, for feeling so utterly stupid.

 _Arthur._

"Shut up." He mumbled annoyed and tore his eyes from the man. It was only just then that Morgan realized the kind of scene he had come across.

He saw the yellow tape, stopping people from getting closer. He saw the white sheet covering the body.

Morgan felt a cold shiver as eyes landed on a pale hand sticking out from under the cover. The middle finger carried a silver ring, with an unfamiliar crest on. Morgan had noticed the exact same ring, not days ago, on one of the people who had bumped into him.

He looked away, feeling sick, as something stirred inside him. Blue eyes caught someone across the street. A man, dressed in all red, staring straight back at him.

Morgan gasped, suddenly finding it hard to breathe, as an icy cold pierced him, making him stumble back a little.

Dark eyes squinted and Morgan gasped, his legs giving away under him, as he felt an excruciating pain piercing his skull.

Next thing, Morgan felt a warm hand on his shoulder, which immediately seemed to soothe the pain.

"Are you okay?" A gentle and familiar voice asked making Morgan look up as the pain subsided. For a moment he met deep blue eyes, his heart skipping a beat once again, something which, he thought was a becoming a bad habit and could hardly be healthy. Morgan found himself getting lost in the eyes for a second, before he remembered the man in red and tore his eyes away, only to find that the man across the street had disappeared.

"You…"

Morgan's attention was brought back to the blonde man standing next to him once again.

"Who _are_ you?" The blonde asked the question before Morgan could find those same words. It seemed he had wondered the same as Morgan and as much as he wanted to be able to answer that question, he found himself unable to. He couldn't explain this familiarity, this connection and longing he felt towards the other man and if his puzzled look was anything to go by, neither could the blonde.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, how did you like this first new chapter? What did you think of Moriah?

PLease let me know, so I know if I'm completely off with these new editings :) Much appriciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Chapter two - Enjoy!

* * *

Arthur entered the ballroom, following his father and with Ashley by his side, wearing a long dark red dress, open in the back and complementing her slim female features.

The ballroom at Buckingham palace was lined up and decorated for the annually harvest banquet. Long tables with gold and silverware stretched out on the red-carpet floor.

Arthur glanced up at the old thrones, behind the end table. This wasn't the first time he attended the banquet and the scene before him wasn't new, however something felt different this time.

He couldn't pin point what it was, but something about the thrones gave him a feeling of melancholy along with a sense of loss.

"Arthur?" Ashley asked concerned and gave his suit sleeve a small tuck, drawing his attention to her. Arthur took her hand in his and patted it, giving her a reassuring smile.

"It's nothing." He told her, "Just a bit tired." Ashley turned to stand in front of him and reached up.

"You really should let that case go." She said slowly and caressed his cheek, "It's wearing you out and I don't like it."

Arthur gave her a grateful smile and took her hand, giving it a small peck.

"I appreciate your concern, love." He said gently, "But it'll be fine."

"Mr. Prime minister!" The King, dressed in his formal uniform, came up to Arthur's father and shook his hand with a big smile. The minister returned the smile and handshake, like the old friend that the King was.

"Your Majesty, thank you for your continued hospitality." He replied and stepped aside, making room for Arthur and Ashley to present themselves.

"Ah, your brilliant son and his beautiful fiancé!" The king greeted and kissed Ashley's hand with a bow, before shaking Arthur's hand.

"Thanks for the compliments, your majesty." Arthur said and gave a small bow.

"And thank you, for keeping our city safe." The king replied, giving Arthur a smile, "I've heard a lot of great things about you, young Arthur. I am looking forward to work with you in politics."

"Thank you, your majesty." Arthur replied, feeling a small pang in the pit of his stomach at the mention of his future. Being the only son of a high ranked politician, Arthur knew that it was expected of him to follow his father and become a high ranked minister himself one day. A lot of people expected this of him and while he did have a long education, wide knowledge of politics and good leader skills, Arthur didn't feel like he would be able to carry such responsibility. He wasn't too thrilled about the thought of entering the world of politics.

Arthur breathed out a long sigh. He could still hear the buzzing of talking people, enjoying the ongoing banquet inside.

He had told Ashley he needed some fresh air and had left the ballroom. Arthur had never really enjoyed these gatherings or any of his father's parties for that matter. It was suffocating and he never felt lonelier and out of place than when at these parties. Rich people all putting up a front, trying to outsmart each other in a constant battle for power. Arthur didn't care much for it. Life seemed lonely and hard enough as it was, he didn't need to add on that.

Arthur inhaled the smoke from his lit cigarette and leaned his head back, closing his eyes, as he blew it out.

He normally wasn't one to smoke, however on occasions like this, when he was faced with the reality of his life, he had found that it gave a little relief. And relief he needed, if he had to get through a banquet night in one piece.

"Does the head of state know his son smoke?"

Arthur cursed aloud and threw his cigarette to the ground immediately.

"Or curse?" The voice behind him asked with a hint of amusement. Arthur turned and let out a surprised gasp, finding the Queen mother standing behind him with a knowing smile and glint in her eyes.

"Your Majesty!" Arthur exclaimed and bowed deeply, feeling his ears going hot with embarrassment. The Queen chuckled and waved at him.

"Please Arthur, no need to be so formal with me." She said and patted his shoulder, making him stand up straight, "I've known you since you were born." She reasoned, giving him a fond smile.

Arthur looked around, making sure no one else was around in the small court yard, making sure they were alone. He remembered his father telling him as a teen, that his closeness with the Queen mother was inappropriate and had since made sure they were alone, whenever they were informal.

Arthur's mother had been the daughter of one of the Queen's cousins. They had had a close relationship and with his father having a central role in politics as well, Arthur had been visiting the royal household, on several occasions, throughout his childhood. However, it had become less after his mother had died, when he was 13. But the lack of regular visits in the past 12 years, didn't seem to have lessen the Queen's fondness of him. She still liked to treat him as a grandson.

"Something is different." The Queen noted, as she gave Arthur a close look. He stared at her confused.

"About you." The Queen clarified and pushed a few strands of hair away from his eyes looking into them, "Your usual lonely brooding is somewhat... lacking. Did something happen? Something good?"

Arthur's mind immediately went to the young man he'd met during the raid, a couple of weeks ago and the dreams that had followed. Had he changed after that meeting?

Arthur remembered the fleeting sense of feeling complete and safe, for the short moment their eyes had locked.

A feeling of home.

Something which he had never felt before.

He remembered the dreams. How happy and content he had felt and how disappointed he had been, waking up to reality.

Arthur shook his head and looked down, trying to ignore the Queen's intense look and the hollowness inside him.

"I think it's about time I showed you something." She said quietly and looked around them, before taking a step closer to him, "There are things about your birth and life, which you should know, Arthur." She said in a careful whisper, looking straight at him, eyes serious, "Come to Balmoral next weekend, we can't talk freely here. There is eyes and ears everywhere in London and not all of them can be trusted..."

The Queen put a hand on his chest and looked up, meeting his eyes.

"Be careful with who you trust, Arthur." She pleaded and stood on her toes, kissing his forehead before giving him a gentle smile and turned away, heading back to her guests.

(...)

Morgan sat, leaned back and heavy in his couch, head resting against the wall.

Eyes closed and joint lit between fingers. Another and another day gone by.

Morgan breathed out and let his drug induced mind take him away.

He was flying high above ground on a giant winged beast. He screamed with excitement, as he held out his arms, feeling the wind blowing through his hair.

Next, he found himself in a familiar forest, sitting around a fire with five men, dressed in chainmail and long red capes with a yellow dragon on the back. He looked at their faces, heard their cheerful chatter and laughs. Morgan couldn't help a smile himself, at a content feeling, the feeling of belonging, he felt being with them.

He then realized he knew them.

Knew them well.

Their stories, their names...

Leon, Percival, Elyan, Gwaine and Arthur. Morgan rested his gaze on Arthur and felt his heart skip a beat, as the other man laughed along with the others from something Gwaine had said.

Morgan felt a warmth spread inside him, as he continued to watch and listen to the man with the dirty blonde hair and bright eyes. He was special.

The warmth and fuzziness Morgan felt watching him confirmed this.

Arthur had always been special.

Morgan opened his eyes slowly, feeling the drugs fading and his mind slowly waking up.

Back to reality.

Morgan felt the tears on his cold cheeks and dried them away with a stubborn sniff.

Waking up was always the hardest part.

After that meeting, the dreams had increased. Dreams of friendships, brotherhood, adventure, warmth, love and most of all a feeling of home.

Of belonging and of purpose.

All the things Morgan longed for, whenever he was awake.

Morgan thought back on the encounter, which had changed it all.

Arthur.

The man had not only looked exactly like the Arthur of his dreams, but he had given off the same feeling.

Morgan let out a long breath and drove a hand through thick raven hair.

Just who was he?

There was a small knock on the door, which made Morgan let out a small, annoyed groan. He trashed the remaining join in the ashtray and got up from the couch. He shuffled towards the door as another knock resounded in the small apartment.

"Coming, coming…" Morgan mumbled, as he reached the door.

Opening, Morgan let out a small surprised gasp, seeing who stood on the other side.

"So, you do live here. I wasn't completely sure." The blonde said and scratched the back of his head nervously. Morgan stared at him gob smacked, trying to figure out what the detective was doing at his door late at night.

"Are you here to arrest me?" Morgan then asked, finding that this had to be the only reason for the other man to be at his door. The blonde's eyes widened and he quickly shook his head.

"No, no not at all." He said hurriedly and pulled in his brown leather jacket, "Civil clothes." He explained and continued to point at himself, "I'm not here in for official matters."

Morgan crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, giving the detective a apprehensive look.

"Then what are you doing here?" Morgan asked, trying to sound indifferent and ignoring the happy butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the close proximity of the other man.

"I'm…" The blonde began and looked down, once again his hand reaching the back of his head. The nervous and somewhat awkward gesture made Morgan crook a small smile unknowingly, however not unnoticed by the blonde as he looked up.

"Frankly, I don't know." He then said and stood up straight, "Ever since we first met, I-" He paused for a moment as if he was looking for the right words, "I don't really know how to say this, without it sounding weird."

"Well," Morgan said and looked down for a moment, shuffling his feet, "If it's any consolation, you being here is already weird, so it can only get better from here."

The blonde laughed at this and Morgan realized that he knew the sound. This warmhearted laugh wasn't unfamiliar to him.

"I'm Arthur," The blonde then said and held out his hand, surprising Morgan, "Arthur Pence."

"Morgan Emerson." Morgan replied and took Arthur's hand. It was only after a longer moment, that Morgan realized he had yet to let go of the others hand or look away from the blue eyes for that matter.

"This." Arthur then said in a low and hesitant voice, "It's this that I need to figure out. There's something about you and I-"

Morgan had never considered himself to be a very patient person and this might be the reason for his, sometimes rather spontaneous and not thought through actions. He would later blame the unexplainable longing and relief, the constant heart skipping and butterflies, whenever the other man was near, however in the moment, Morgan did it for the sole reason that he felt like it.

In a few quick movements, Morgan had pulled the detective inside, shut the door and slammed the bigger blonde against it and clashed their lips together.

Morgan was surprised at how easily he got lost in the kiss, as the other responded eagerly after another second. He had planned it to be something quick, something the to the detective off his case and out of his mind.

For it to make him feel warm, fuzzy and weak in the knees, for the kiss to grow deeper and more passionate, taking his breath away as hands sought naked skin, was the last thing he expected.

"So…" Morgan breathed, when they finally parted enough for him to speak, "This? What's the conclusion, Mr. Detective?" Arthur hummed, eyes closed and a small smile gracing his lips, still mere inches from Morgan.

"Can't say." He answered in a husky voice and opened his eyes, looking straight into Morgan's, "I'll need more evidence."

Morgan grinned, holding Arthur's eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah…"

Arthur repeated and pushed Morgan into the nearest wall and pulled at his sweater before he closed the little distance between them for another kiss.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, thoughts?

I know, I know. A kiss, this early? But the early established physical relationship is important for the development of their relationship and the story as a whole, so yeah... Don't worry, there'll be lots of drama coming your way ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Chapter three for you guys! Hope you enjoy**

 **Chapter Three**

Arthur stepped out of the black tinted car and looked up at the castle towering before him. It had been the better part of ten years since he had last been at the castle and it somehow seemed smaller than he remembered.

Barmoral Castle in Scotland, was the royal summer get away location. Located in the vacant highlands, it was perfect for getting away from the hustle and bustle of the busy city and prying eyes of the people.

This was most likely one of the reasons why this castle, for years, had been the Queen's favorite estate.

Arthur had spent several holidays, at the castle throughout his childhood. Despite being the Queen's second cousin once removed, Arthur's mother had been very close with the Queen and had brought him along, whenever she visited the royal family.

He had loved coming to the Scottish castle.

Some of his best childhood memories was from the time he spent here.

Arthur remembered sitting by the fire in the castle drawing room, watching the flames, while tugged up next to his mother and listening to the queen reading him stories.

He remembered playing in the gardens on warm summer days, while his mother and the queen sat on the terrace, enjoying the weather and always ready with the most delicious homemade lemonade, whenever he needed refreshments.

Arthur had fought dragons, evil witches and all sorts of magical beasts in this castle and saved both the queen and his mother on several occasions.

"Arthur!" The Queen exclaimed happy, as she stepped out of the castle doors, coming to greet him herself. Arthur gave her a soft smile and pulled the smaller woman into a hug.

"Beth." He greeted, calling her the nickname he had given her as a young boy. He pulled back a little, taking a proper look at her. The queen was wearing her casual clothes. A flower printed skirt, reaching her ankles and a light pink knitted sweater, shielding her from the cold breeze of the early fall. Her white hair was pulled back in a small bun, exposing the many wrinkles, her age and wisdom.

Beth reached up both her hands and cupped Arthur's face.

"Look at you," She said with a grin, "so handsome. If only I had been 50 years younger..."

"If that was the case, I wouldn't have been able to leave your side." Arthur answered with a gentle smile and kissed her forehead, "It's cold, you better get back inside."

Arthur followed Beth inside and after having carried his few brought belongings to the blue room he used to stay in, as a boy, Arthur joined the Queen in the drawing room.

Beth waited until the maid had left the room, after pouring them coffee, making sure said maid was long gone, before she turned to Arthur. She watched him quietly, as he took a sip of the hot coffee.

"What is this about then?" Arthur asked curiously, putting down the cup and met Beth's eyes, "Why the secrecy and need to make me come all the way up here?"

Beth tore her eyes from him and poured a little milk in the coffee, before taking the cup. She closed her eyes and let out a small sigh.

"I told you; there are eyes and ears everywhere in London." She began and put down the cup after taking a small sip, "The city is full of people who cannot be trusted. People who would betray you in the blink of an eye, to gain more power for themselves or for the ones they serve."

Arthur let out a small chuckle and leaned back in the armchair.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, for a second wondering if the old woman had gotten dementia and was delusional. Beth stood up and slapped Arthur over his head, earning a pained yelp from him.

"I'm not crazy." She said and sat back down, giving him a serious look, "and don't tell me you haven't sensed it. The people in the ministry is as crooked, as they are shallow." Beth spat with disgust, "And unfortunately my family is no better. I'm appalled at what our country has become."

Arthur crooked his head and watched the old woman he loved as his own grandmother. He could see the visible shiver as she spoke. This was something that deeply concerned her. Arthur would be lying if he said he couldn't understand her at all, because she was right.

For the past few years, Arthur had sensed something was off, whenever he attended the formal gatherings of the people in power. It had been the small things. The volatile glances and the soft whispers in the corners.

He couldn't deny the increasing poverty and gap between rich and poor. As a detective he couldn't deny the raising crime rates, which seemed to keep him more and more occupied these days.

Beth was right that something was off, however Arthur had never connected the increasing misery of the people to the nation's leaders.

"You know I'm right, don't you?" Beth asked and met Arthur's eyes. He sighed and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

"Let's say I knew what you were talking about, then what?" Arthur questioned. It was one thing to be aware of something being wrong, being able to do something about it was entirely different. Beth held up a finger and stood from the chair. Without an explanation, she headed for the bookshelf on the far side of the room. She bent down a little and pulled in a book just below her eyesight.

Arthur stood up in surprise, when the shelf suddenly moved aside, revealing a dark room. Beth reached in and pulled out a torch. She took a lighter from one of the shelfs and lit the torch before looking back at Arthur.

"Come on." She said and nodded toward the dark room, "I need to show you something."

The dark room turned out to be a stone staircase leading downwards to a spacious room, full of books, documents and artifacts.

The walls were of old, moist boulders. The stone floor was covered with red carpets. Beth moved around in the dark room effortlessly, as if she knew it inside and out, lighting candles and torches. Arthur stood at the foot of the staircase, unable to move in mere awe of the room.

"How did I not know about this room?" He said quietly as he began to move around, scanning through some of the book and documents. Arthur should know about this. He knew about every other secret room and hall in the castle, having explored it many times, playing there as a child. Beth lit the last candle, lighting up the last dark corner of the old room.

"You do." She said and turned towards him, giving him a small smile, "You found it once, along with a friend of yours. Your mothers and I found the door open one day and found the two of you playing with the old and mind you, priceless artifacts." She said with a small chuckle and shook her head, "How you two managed to find the room in the first place, is still beyond me. Only a select few people know about it."

Arthur turned over a document and picked up one of the swords beneath them. It felt heavy and yet comfortable in his hand.

"Friend?" He then asked, putting the sword back down and looked at Beth confused. Arthur didn't remember playing with anyone at the Barmoral castle, let alone a friend.

Beth nodded and smiled, her eyes turning distant for a moment.

"The young son of one of my..." She paused for a moment before continuing, "associates, who used to visit me regularly." She said and sighed, "I believe you two were about the same age. You got along from the moment you met each other and played together, as if you were old friends." Beth chuckled again at a memory, "Knights and warlocks seemed to be your favorite game to play." She finished and went to one of the book shelves, "I've often wondered what became of the boy after what happened to his mother. No child should be left alone at such a tender age..." She said softly, mostly to herself, as she looked through the books.

"Ah, here it is!" She suddenly exclaimed, her voice completely changed from the regretful one she carried just a moment before.

Beth pulled out a heavy book and blew over it, blowing off the thick dust gathered on it, before she put it in Arthur's hands.

He let out a groan and almost dropped the heavy book handed to him suddenly.

"Here, read this." Beth said shortly and patted the book, "When you've done so, I'll be upstairs, ready to answer any questions you may have."

Before Arthur could say anything in protest, the older woman was already on her way back up from the room. Arthur sighed and looked back at the book in his arms. At first, he wasn't able to read the signs on the book cover, however with a closer look, Arthur suddenly found himself capable of tying the strange signs to understandable words.

 _The memoirs of Arthur Pendragon, Prince and King of Camelot_

Arthur let out a long breath, faintly remembering Beth reading to him about the legendary King Arthur.

Arthur found a chair, which didn't look like it would collapse under him by the smallest gust of wind, and sat down, the heavy book in front of him.

He turned the first page and once again found himself capable of understanding the curly signs written on the dusty pages.

Well, this was gonna take some time...

 **0_0**

It was early morning, when Morgan headed back home from the city. He had spent the better part of the night at one of the drug clubs, getting high and just letting go with the strangers surrounding him.

It had been a good night.

Granted he couldn't really remember much of it, however that was what made it good.

He still felt somewhat lightheaded and the constant shaking from the underground train didn't do anything for the headache approaching.

Morgan groaned and held his head, breaking the silence in the otherwise empty train cart. This was the dark side of the mindless relief. The headaches that felt like someone had pierced his skull with a blunt axe.

"I can teach you a trick, that will clear that pain up in the blink of an eye." A sudden voice made Morgan sit up straight, fully alert. The lights in the cart were blinking unsteady, however Morgan was able to see the man sitting across of him and recognizing him right away.

The dark eyes and red suit was unmistakable.

"You..." Morgan spat and moved back just a little, giving the man a guarded look.

"Hello Morgan." He said and gave Morgan a bright smile, leaning forward a little, resting his arms on his legs, getting a better look at the younger man.

"What do you want?" Morgan asked coldly, not at all trusting his friendly exterior.

"Why, I want you Morgan." He said and crooked his head, smiling as he watched him closely.

Morgan could feel the dark eyes once again piercing into him with a coldness that send shivers throughout his body.

"I do apologize for the somewhat... rough, treatment of you the last time," The man said and gave him an apologetic look, "Sometimes we can get a little too... overexcited." He coughed and crooked a small smirk, "And well, you're quite something, aren't you Morgan? None of us have ever felt power like yours."

Morgan sighed and titled his head back against the window behind him, immediately regretting it as it only caused his headache to worsen.

"Look, I already told the other wizards or whatever, that they have the wrong person." He said annoyed and looked back at the man, "I don't have magic. I am not a wizard!"

The man grinned.

"You're right," He said and sat up straight, leaning back in the seat, "You're not a wizard, Morgan. Your magic is much older than that, which makes you a warlock - not a wizard."

The man clarified, his smirk seemingly permanent on his face by now.

"There's a difference?" Morgan asked with raised brow, not really understanding anything of what was said.

"Oh yes." The man said, dark eyes shining in excitement, "A warlock's magic is much more potent, as it is a part of him from birth. It's magic as old as time itself. Warlocks are very rare. The last time one was known to walk this earth, was a thousand years ago."

Merlin.

The name popped up in Morgan's mind on it's own accord. He shook his head, ignoring the feeling of familiarity in him.

"So, you're saying that I'm one of those. A warlock?" Morgan asked, trying to clarify what it was all about. The man in red gave him a small nod, staring at him intently.

"You really do have to wrong person." Morgan laughed and shook his head, "I can assure you, I'm nothing of the sort. I- Do- Not- Have- Magic." He repeated, making sure to underline his words.

The man's smirk faded, as he sighed and stood up.

"You'll have to realize eventually, young Morgan." He said and dusted off his red suit, "A war is coming and you need to decide where you stand. With them or with us."

The man was suddenly standing above Morgan, his face inches from the young man, "And you better choose wisely." He hissed eyes darkening, as they pierced Morgan's, "it could mean the life or death of those you love."

The man pulled away from Morgan and held up his hand, his eyes flashed red and in the next second the train made a sudden stop, causing Morgan to fall over, onto the dirty floor.

The man looked at his gold watch, tapping it lightly.

"Well, well look at the time, five minutes to the next train passes here." He glanced down at Morgan, who slowly stumbled to his feet, keeping his eyes on the man. The man in red smirked and tsked.

"If only someone had magic, so he could stop the other train and save himself and the twenty others, occupying the two train, but alas..."

With a final look at Morgan the man disappeared into thin air, leaving Morgan alone in the empty cart.

It was only now that he noticed the sounds of other people in the carts beside his. He could hear their confusion at the train's sudden hold, and the worry as someone, like the man in red, knew that another train wasn't far behind.

Morgan kneeled down and put his hands on the train floor. Closing his eyes and concentrating on the feel of the floor, Morgan cursed. He could already feel the vibrations of the other train.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews and especially thanks to AndreKI. I've taken your thoughts into my writing of this story. I'll see if I can avoid making it too one-dimensional, so please stick around and let me know how it goes ;)

 **Chapter 4**

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." Morgan cursed, as he slammed the door shut behind him and slid down against it. He had just run several blocks, from the stopped train in the tunnel to his apartment and the acid in his muscles were burning.

His entire body was shaking.

Heart pounding hard against his chest.

Cold sweat against hot skin.

Dizzy.

Sight blurry.

Nauseated.

The man Staggered breathing.

Morgan stared at his trembling hands, remembering the looks of confusion and fear of the people as they had stared at him in disbelief.

Feeling the vibrations of the approaching train, it was as if something had taken over. Morgan's body had acted on it's own, as he ran to the far back of the train. He had heard himself speak the words, seen the emergency exit blast open.

Morgan had felt the winds of the upcoming train in the dark tunnel. He had heard the sound of wheels against the tracks.

His hand had reached up, his mouth had spoken a foreign language again and the next thing he saw was the train, coming right at him, like a roaring tiger in the darkness.

Then, the train had slowed down and stopped inches from his outstretched hand.

Morgan had let out a breath and finally regained control of his own body, as he slowly lowered his hand.

Looking back, he had seen them. Their faces, painted with confusion, judgement and fear, as they looked at him.

He knew looks like that all too well. He'd seen them all his life. In the faces of the social workers, foster parents, psychiatrists, police and random people on the streets, the trains.

Freak. Misfit. Pathetic, sad and worthless existence.

None of it was new to him.

Morgan shut his eyes and clenched his fists, trying to gain a little control of his panicking body, when he suddenly felt an unfamiliar heat in his palms.

Opening his fists, Morgan screamed and stood up in panic. He shook his hands desperately, trying to put out the fire in his palms. He stumbled into the couch table and fell hard on the floor.

Morgan let out another scream, as an agonizing pain burned through his body. The nausea returned double fold. His stomach twisted and Morgan just barely got on his side, before his body threw out the content of his stomach.

He gaged.

Stomach continuing to cramp and twist, despite being completely empty.

Burning skin.

Icy cold sweat.

Heart beating fast and irregularly.

Gasping, breathing becoming difficult.

Suddenly the sound of shattering glass broke his screams and items flew from shelf's and cabinets, as a wind filled the place.

Morgan clenched his eyes shut, covering them with his arms.

"Stop!" He screamed, desperate.

 **O_0**

Arthur woke with a startle, as if something had woken him suddenly. Sitting straight and looking around, Arthur found nothing but dark silence around him, except for the dim light of the office lamp and the laptop. He had fallen asleep in his office during work again.

The small numbers in the right corner of the laptop, told him it was already past 1am .

Arthur let out a small groan and pinched his nose tiredly, then glared at the open case files.

This case was bugging him to the point of wanting to pull his hair out in frustration.

So far there had been four murders, with seemingly no trace of how or why. The victims had nothing in common and all of them came up with a blank autopsy. The coroner had no guess, as to how the victims had died.

They were all perfectly healthy corpses, so to speak. It was as if they've just stopped being alive.

Arthur took out one item, that the first victim had had on them, when they'd been found.

A silver ring, with some sort of crest on it. It wasn't something he'd ever seen before. He had roamed the internet, gone through every book possible, trying to locate the crest. However, he'd come up empty handed.

Arthur let out a long sigh, fiddling the ring between his fingers.

He never imagined that a case could bother him this much. It wasn't that he felt some kind of special sympathy for the victims or anything. However, a feeling deep down in his gut, told him that something wasn't right.

Four dead people, who by any anatomical reason, shouldn't be dead and a crest, which couldn't be found anywhere.

He pushed himself from the desk and got up.

He needed a break.

A break which should contain some proper sleep.

Preferably in a soft bed.

Arthur headed for his bedroom and opening the door, he found Ashley sleeping peacefully in his bed.

Right, his fiancé had stayed over after they had dined together earlier.

After spending the entire long weekend in Scotland and another few days stuck at work, thanks to new murders, Ashley had demanded, that he spend some quality time with her.

However, this was expected, he guessed. After all, they were engaged to be married in a year's time.

Arthur let out a quiet sigh and closed the bedroom door carefully. He picked up his jacket and keys, before leaving the apartment. The rugged halls of the apartment building was quiet and deserted, given the late hour.

Arthur headed straight for the elevator and a minute later found himself in the grand, tiled entrance hall.

"Pretty late for a walk, isn't it, Mr. Pence?" The night guard, Wilson, asked and gave Arthur a questioning look from behind the hall desk.

"Is it?" Arthur simply replied and opened the glass door as Wilson buzzed it open.

"Don't wait up." Arthur added with a crooked smirk at the guard, who just shook his head at the young man.

The case continued to rummage in his head, as he started walking with no particular destination in mind. He just needed a change of pace and some fresh air.

Maybe this would make him see clearer.

If only one of the murders had had a witness. If only someone had seen something - anything, then maybe he'd have something to go by. However, as it was now, there was no clue as to how, why and even less who. And somewhere, a sick and twisted murderer walked around, laughing at and mocking Arthur for not being able to catch them.

Arthur was walking along the streets of downtown London, hands in his pockets, sheltering himself from the cold and lost in his own thoughts.

The rumbling sound and glass shattering was the first he heard. Then came the light with the scorching heat, burning his skin. The force pushing him meters back, his back colliding with the concrete.

Disorientation.

Ringing ears.

Suffocating and impregnable smoke and dust.

Arthur coughed and gasped, the hot air burning his lungs.

He looked around, his vision blurry and spotted. He saw unmoving figures on the ground and figures running around in the dust. However it was as the world had been muted, because Arthur heard nothing but the ringing sound in his ears.

Somewhat confused, as to what had happened he rose to his elbows, his sight slowly becoming a bit clearer and the ringing fading. He felt a hand on his shoulder and felt someone next to him. Arthur looked to his right and found a man next to him. The man's mouth was moving, however Arthur wasn't able to hear anything. He shook his head and sat up completely.

"Wha- what happened?" He mumbled and tried to get up, but was held down by the stranger.

"Easy there."

Arthur was finally able to what the man said.

"The Aspley House exploded." He said and looked straight ahead through the heavy dust, "You're lucky you weren't closer to the house..."

The Apsley House? Explosion?

It was only now that Arthur heard the shouts and sirens over the sound of a roaring fire and saw the flames through the smoke and dust.

It wasn't long though, before the sound of another explosion was heard not far away and then another one. The man looked up. Fear and confusion evident in the dust covered face. He was about to say something when Arthur interrupted him, stumbling on his feet.

"It's okay." Arthur said and pulled out his badge, "I'm a cop. I'll figure out what's happening. You sir, should go home and stay inside."

The man looked at him and then nodded, getting up.

"Oh and thank you." Arthur added and gave a small nod of acknowledgement before he turned, covered his face and ran through the smoke.

He could hear the cries and groans of pain but couldn't see anything through the chick smoke. He coughed, the dust getting in his lungs and called out, trying to locate someone, anyone.

After a minute of no response someone finally reacted to his calls and following the voice through the smoke, Arthur came upon a couple of youngersters. One of them, a young boy, was leaned over a girl.

"Help me, please!" The boy pleaded, a sign of relief in his eyes as he saw Arthur, "She- she's not moving." He stammered and moved away a little when Arthur kneeled down next to them.

"We were on our way home from a party and then suddenly-"

"I know." Arthur said understanding and felt for a pulse and breathing from the girl. He looked at the boy.

"Your girlfriend?" He asked. The boy nodded, tears swelling up in his eyes, mixing with the blood streaming down from a cut on his forehead.

"Is she...?"

"She's alive." Arthur answered and stood, picking the girl up in his arms, "But she needs help immediately."

"It's me." Arthur said, as the other end of the phone was picked up.

"Pence? Look, right now isn't really-" The other voice sounded confused and somewhat stressed.

"I'm there." Arthur interrupted quickly and looked around. Smoke and fire was still coming from the building, however by now the firedepartment has arrived, along with medical assistance and police, all trying to put out the fire in the old building and helping out wounded people.

"What?"

"The Apsley House." Arthur answered tight away, "I was there when it happened and I'm here now." He continued as he walked helped a couple of medics getting a wounded up from the ground, "I heard two more explosions. What's happening?"

There was a pause for a moment, then a sigh.

"We don't know yet." The other answered, sounding tired, "For now we're treating it as acts of terror, however no one has claimed responsibility yet."

Arthur nodded. He figured as much.

"The other two places?" Arthur asked, wanting to know where the other explosions had happened.

Another long silence.

"Banqueting House and Royal Albert Hall." Was the answer, voice not hiding it's sadness.

Three places, all national, cultural and historic treasures. This was no coincidence. This was something which had been planned carefully.

Someone was attacking Londoners, the British at their very core.

Arthur hummed and signaled a couple of his subordinates over.

"We will have to work together on this." Arthur said into the phone, "This is big. We'll need each other's resources."

"You're right." The other agreed, "I'll let the chief know, I'm sure he has forgiven you for turning down his offer by now."

Arthur chuckled, remembering how offended the Chief of MI5 had been, when Arthur had turned down his offer to become an agent, saying he'd rather work close amongst his people in London.

Arthur still kept in contact with an old friend from the police academy, who in turn had accepted an offer at MI5. Connections like this was important for the working relationship between the two fractions, especially when something like this happened.

"Thanks Leo, I'll keep in contact." Arthur finished and hung up.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Chapter 5 for you amazing people! Thank you for the beautiful comments and your follows!

Oh and Merry Christmas! Hope you're all having awesome holidays!

Now, enjoy!

 **0_0**

She looked up from the books, when the door to the library opened.

"Do you understand now?" The man asked and kneeled down in front of her.

She sat on the dark wooden floor, surrounded by dozens of old books. Morning light shone from the mosaic window behind her, painting her in a red and blue light. The candles around her had burned all night and were almost burned out.

The girl bit her lip and nodded, looking from the man down at the book in her lap.

"The history of magic," She began, "Persecution, forgotten only to be persecuted again and then hiding, living in fear and being forgotten once again..." She looked up at the man, "Why is it like that? Why did we let them kill and oppress us?" The girl asked confused, not understanding what she had read, "The old Religion; High Priestesses, druids, warlocks, dragonlords and a dozen of magical creatures at our disposal... why didn't we fight back properly? We've always been so much stronger than them..."

The man smirked and sat down, legs crossed, as he picked up a book.

"That's the question, isn't it?" He said with a small sigh, "My guess is morals and a misplaced respect for those without magic."

The girl huffed and put down the book.

"Screw that." She said and crossed her arms, "This isn't Harry Potter, they've hunted us down, tortured and killed us - for centuries. They don't deserve our respect."

She declared and stood up, heart pounding in her chest as she continued, "We're their superiors, they should be working for us, fear us. That's the natural order. Animals, humans and magicians."

The man looked up at her, not hiding his surprise and crooked a smirk. He let out a small laugh as he stood up.

"Well said, Moriah." He said and put a hand on the girl's shoulder, "We're gonna change that, you and I. It's high time magic demanded its rightful place in this world - on top of the food chain."

 **0_0**

Morgan turned down the volume of the tv, when he heard a knock on his door. Putting down the joint, he got off the couch to open.

"Arthur?" Morgan asked confused, seeing the man on the other side. It had been a while since Morgan had seen the detective. In fact, they hadn't had any contact since that night with the heavy make out, which thinking about it now, made Morgan feel embarrassed. He stared at Arthur as he stood in the hall, hair, face and clothes covered in dust, dirt and dark red spots, which looked suspiciously like blood, while carrying a scent of smoke with him.

"What happened to you?" Morgan asked, then suddenly remembered what had been reported in the news all day.

"Don't tell me; you were there?"

Arthur nodded and sighed tiredly, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah." He mumbled, "I've been on the scene since last night and I was ordered by my colleagues to go home and get some rest..."

Morgan nodded in understanding and then let out a small chuckle, taking a step back letting the detective.

"You were told to go home and so, you came to my place?" Morgan asked with a crooked smile and headed for the small kitchen while Arthur threw himself on the couch. He let out a sound akind to a hum as answer.

"For some reason, I wanted to see you." Arthur mumbled into the couch pillow. Morgan took the two hot mugs and put one of them on the small table in front of Arthur, before he sat down in the chair. He watched the detective, as he sat up with a heavy groan and took the mug in his hands.

The two sat in a long, comfortable silence, as they sipped their coffee. Morgan then made a face.

"You really need a bath." He commented and took another sip non-chalantly. Arthur chuckled and started coughing when coffee went down the wrong place.

"Yeah. I guess I do." He replied in between breaths. Morgan put down the now empty mug and got up heading for his bedroom.

"I may have some clothes you can borrow while we wash yours." He said, as Arthur got up too and followed him.

Arthur rose a brow at Morgan as he handed him the clothes.

"Not really your size, is it?" He asked suspiciously. Morgan shrugged and walked past the detective, back to the living room.

"I have the occasional guests and some of them leaves behind things." He answered, as if it was the most normal thing, "Bathroom is in the hall. You can use whatever you need in there."

 **0_0**

Arthur felt the warmth of another body in his arms and against his chest. He heard the quiet breathing of another sleeping next to him. Felt a stomach slowly rise and fall under his hands. It was peaceful and soothing. The other seeming to fit just right against him. Arthur let out a small annoyed groan, feeling all too comfortable and not wanting to wake up just yet.

When the person next to him shifted and turned in his arms, Arthur forced himself to open his eyes.

At first he was surprised to see Morgan sleeping in his arms, however the surprise was quickly replaced by the strange familiar feeling he got whenever he was with the other man.

Arthur still couldn't explain how he felt this comfortable and safe with someone he'd only met a couple of times. He couldn't explain how he somehow knew about all the small movements and expressions of the other man or how his laugh and voice felt so familiar, as if he had heard it everyday for years.

Despite barely having spend any time with Morgan, Arthur felt as if he had known the younger man for years already.

He reached out carefully touching Morgan's sleeping face. His heart quickened it's pace as he felt the soft and warm skin under his fingertips.

Morgan shifted and mumbled something in his sleep, making Arthur pull his hand back. It was only then he realized what he was doing and sat up quickly.

Graphing his phone, Arthur saw the several calls and messages from Ashley. He cursed under his breath and stepped out of the bed.

This was really bad taste. He knew that, but damn it, he couldn't help it. Arthur didn't understand, but he needed to have Morgan close.

With a quick glance at the still sleeping Morgan, Arthur left the bedroom and headed to the balcony. It was still early morning and early winter, which meant the weather was getting colder by the day. Arthur shivered, his naked arms and chest shoving off goosebumps in protest to the cold winds.

Walking outside in nothing but a pair of thin night pants probably wasn't the smartest move, however he intended for the call to be short.

"It's me." Arthur said, when the phone was picked up in the other end.

"Arthur!" Ashley exclaimed, "Where the heck are you?! I've been trying to get a hold on you! I-"

"I know." Arthur interrupted, not really wanting to hear Ashley's angry rant, "I'm sorry. When I finally got off work, I was so tired, I crashed at a friend who lives close to the scene."

This of cause was a balant lie. In fact, Arthur's place was much closer to the scene than Morgan's. It had taken the better part of half an hour to walk to his place. However, rather than Ashley, Arthur had wanted to see Morgan.

"Who?!" Ashley demanded harshly. Arthur sighed impatiently and drove a hand through his hair.

"A new friend. You don't know him." Arthur told her, knowing she would calm down a little, learning that said friend was male.

"Really?" Ashley's voice was now completely changed, with a certain sweetness and curiosity, "If that's the case, I need to meet him."

Arthur made a face imagining the two meeting. Something told him that Morgan and Ashley wouldn't get along - at all. They just seemed to be too... different.

"Yeah." Arthur mumbled and turned to get back inside, "Anyway, I have work all day, I'll be home afterwards."

Hanging up, Arthur went to the small kitchen to make some coffee and get some warmth back into his body.

 **0_0**

" _Where is he, Marian?!"_

 _The boy saw two large men pushing his mother into the room, following her closely in a treathening manner. He took a step back, further into the cupboard, eyes still fixed on what little he could see through the crack. He met his mother's glance shortly before she turned to the men, giving them a hateful glare._

 _"I will never let you have him." His mother sneered angrily, "He does not belong with you."_

 _The men chuckled and exchanged a look before looking back at Marian with glee in their dark eyes._

 _"That's were you're wrong, dear Marian." One of them said, "As the child of Nemeth, he does belong to us. He has to be raised under our guidance."_

 _Marian shook her head stubbornly._

 _"How dare you?" She asked, her voice shaking with anger, "You killed Nemeth, called him a traitor for wanting out. Morgan isn't one of your children." She hissed, "He belongs with me, his mother and besides, he's-"_

 _"Special." The other man finished and crooked a smirk, "Oh we know. We know all too well how special the traitor's child is. We've seen the prophecy. We know."_

" _The prophecy is bullshit." Marian countered, "Morgan has the purest of hearts. He would never-"_

 _The boy gasped and held back a cry when one of the men reached out and his mother flew back, slamming against the wall. She dropped on the floor and clutched her troath, gasping for air._

 _"Well, imagine what your little boy will do, when that pure heart of his is broken over," The man paused and tightened his fist, as Marian coughed and tears appeared in her eyes,"and over and... over... We will have him one day, Marian. You can't hide him from us forever, not when you're dead..."_

 **0_0**

 **A/N:** This was a somewhat short chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it.

Hope this both explained a bit, like how magic became what it is and also hopefully this had you starting thinking and creating some questions too

Stay safe for New Years! See ya' next year!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Another quick chapter for you guys, here on the last day of 2018!

Thank you for all the comments, likes and follwows! You guys are the best!

This is for you ️

 **0_0**

"No! Mom!!"

Morgan woke from his own cry and found himself in bed, hand reached out towards nothing and heart pounding in his chest. Realizing where he was and calming himself, Morgan sat up feeling slightly confused. The light coming in from the window indicated it was late morning, which surprised Morgan, as he had slept like a baby until just now. Normally he would wake up multiple times, because of the nightmare and be up half the night because he wasn't able to fall asleep again.

He drove a shaky hand through raven messy hair and breathed out slowly. The dream itself was nothing new. In fact, Morgan had long since lost count of how many times, he had been forced to relive that night, through his dreams.

However, this time it had been different. This time, Morgan had been able to hear what they said, as if that part of his memories had been unlocked.

He had heard the conversation between his mother and the men, however he still didn't understand it.

Morgan understood that the men wanted him, but not why.

He understood he was foretold to do something. Something horrible, for his mother to claim he wouldn't do it.

He understood that his father's name had been Nemeth.

He understood that the men, whoever they were, had not only killed his mother, but also his father and thus made Morgan an orphan at the age of nine.

Ever since his time, at the first orphanage, Morgan had fantasizied and hoped, his father would one day turn up and save him from all the misery. For 15 years, he had desperately held on to that one hope, only for it to be cruelly crushed like this.

Morgan pulled up his legs and hid his face in his arms, feeling tears pressing on.

Now he finally realized, he was truly alone.

Morgan felt scared, no terrified.

Something was happening with him and he didn't understand what. These people who wanted him, Morgan figured that the two men from back the and the man in red, was somehow related. But if that was the case, why didn't the man in red just force him along? The two men had seemed pretty determined to get a hold of Morgan, as a boy.

Why didn't they just do whatever they wanted with him and get it over with?

Why wait?

Wasn't he already broken enough?

Morgan shifted in the bed and looked up suddenly, as a smell of fresh brewed coffee and warm bread tickled his nose.

Confused and curious, Morgan pushed aside the covers and stepped out of the bed.

Hesitant, he opened the bedroom door and walked into to joined living room and kitchen. Morgan stopped in his tracks, finding a blonde haired man, dressed in loose pajama pants and a black unbuttoned shirt, walking about in Morgan's kitchen, whistling to himself.

You're not alone.

A silent voice told Morgan and he remembered how the detective had showed up the day before. How they had spend the rest of the day just talking and laughing together.

Morgan remembered having woken once, during the night, only to find himself tucked up in Arthur's arms, feeling more warm and safe than ever, before falling back into a peaceful sleep.

He watched Arthur, as the other man opened the oven and pulled out a couple of freshly backed bread buns. His eyes caught Morgan's as he looked up.

"Well, goodmorning sleepyhead!" He said cheerfully and smiled at Morgan, "I was just about to go and wake you up. Breakfast is ready." Arthur glanced at his arm watch, "Or maybe the term brunch is more accurate, considering it's almost ." He added and grinned.

Morgan gave Arthur a look and walked up to the kitchen table to find bread, scrabbled eggs, small sausages, bacon, coffee and everything else belonging to a traditional British brunch table.

He looked at Arthur surprised.

"Did you make all this?" He asked gobsmacked. Arthur nodded proudly.

"Well, most of it." He admitted, "The bread, I bought premade, only had to bake it."

Morgan stared at the grand meal before him, not really sure what to do.

"But all this stuff, I didnt even..."

"Yeah, I went and did some early shopping." Arthur said and scratched the back of his neck in a nervous manner. Morgan looked up at the blonde.

"Why?"

Arthur shrugged nonchalantly.

"I wanted to." He said, as if that was his answer to everything.

Morgan stood still and stared at all the food. He felt confused, as to what he was supposed to feel. Not a moment ago, he had felt completely lost and alone, after the dream's relevation and then he'd come out to find Arthur having made breakfast to him.

Arthur, who was a man, he had met only a few times, a yet Morgan felt more content and safe with him than with anyone else. He recognized all the small details about the other man, as if he knew them all too well. The presence of the detective felt as that of a dear friend, who Morgan had known for years.

And this, more than anything else, puzzled Morgan.

"Are you okay?" Arthur asked, pulling Morgan out of his thoughts, "You seem a bit shaken up and looks as if you've been crying."

Morgan cursed to himself and dried his eyes with the back of his hands.

"I'm fine." He said quickly and coughed, clearing his voice, "Just a dream."

"Wanna talk about it?" Arthur asked and gave Morgan a gentle, concerned look. Morgan shook his head and sat down by the table.

"Not really." He mumbled, avoiding Arthur's glance. To his surprise, Morgan soon felt a pair of strong arms embracing him from behind. He automatically leaned into the warmth and comfort of the other. He closed his eyes as he felt every last bit of the before felt loneliness, fade into nothing, as the warmth filled him up.

"Don't you have work?" Morgan then asked, not moving one inch in the embrace.

"Not ." Came the answer behind him. Morgan hummed pleasantly and opened his eyes to meet Arthur's.

"Really? What should we do until then?" He asked, voice a little husk and teasing. Arthur crooked a playful smirk.

"I can think of a few things we could do..."

 **0_0**

The office was quiet, except for the heavy rain hitting the floor to ceiling windows. Windows revealing grey and dark skies over the Tower bridge and London Eye.

The room was dimly lit by a large terrarium behind the desk and a fireplace, by the small couch group.

Another sound broke the quiet office, when a small rumbling and click came from behind one of the bookshelves. The bookshelf moved aside and a woman in her late 20's stepped out from behind it.

She was drying her hands in a cloth, painting it deep red from blood. Growing the bloodied cloth into the fire, the woman headed to the terrarium.

"Well done, my small pets." She said affectionally, as two black and one brown spiders crawled down her arm into her palms. Opening a part of the glass terrarium, the woman put her hand in. The 2 inch black spider along with the brown, immediately jumped off her hand and into the web covered greenery of the terrarium. However, the last one, with a distinct red hourglass on its back, crawled back up her arm. The woman chuckled.

"More cuddle time, Princess?" She asked and retrieved her hand, "Very well then."

The spider crawled back up the arm and settled on the warm spot in the crook of the woman's neck.

A small knock on the office door made the woman look up.

"Enter." The woman called as she sat down behind the desk. A man, in his early 50's stepped in hesitantly and gave the woman behind the desk a unsure look.

"It's ready, mistress." He said, voice small and slightly shaking, "All that's left is your order to distribute it."

The woman crooked a smirk.

"Did you hear that, Princess?" She asked and petted the small spider, "It's finally ready." She then looked back at the man, still standing close to the door.

"Very well," She said to him and nodded, "You know what to do."

The man nodded and was about to leave when the woman stopped him.

"Oh, and tell Morven to come see me."

It wasn't long before it knocked on the door again and a man dressed in a red suit entered the office. The woman got up and stepped around the desk.

"Morven, how are we progressing?" She asked, walking up to him, a single finger petting the spider continuously. The man called Morven gave a small bow.

"He is very stubborn, my mistress." He answered, standing straight in front of the woman, "He won't accept it easily."

The woman hummed.

"I never expected it to be easy." She replied annoyed with a sneer, "If he's anything like how Morgana described him, I knew he would be a hard man to break." She paused for a moment, staring into the pouring rain outside and the London beneath, "Pay him another visit. If there's still no progress after that, we'll try the next step."

"Yes mistress." Morven said with another bow and made attempt to leave.

"How are my other pets progressing?" She then asked as she returned to her desk. Morven stopped, with a hand on the door handle and looked back at her.

"As planned, Mistress." He assured her, "They're scared and just about to announce higher taxes to pay enforced military."

"Perfect." She said, a wicked smile creeping across her lips. The spider crawled down her arm and across the desk, it's eight legs running effortlessly, to a white crystal on the desk.

"Did you hear that, Morgana? As planned."

The image of a black haired and pale skinned woman appeared within the crystal.

She let out an impatient groan.

"Why waste time?" She asked annoyed, her voice low, "You have them both right at your mercy, why not kill them right away?"

The woman smiled and turned to the crystal.

"Because, my dear Morgana, I am not you. I won't be as reckless." She answered patiently, "Besides, killing Merlin now would be a crying waste and too easy. I'd much rather use him. Merlin has a pure and innocent heart, letting the prophecy happen would be the ultimate revenge against him."

 **0_0**

Their laughter spread from the small corner of Hyde Park. The joint went between them, as they sat close together, trying to stay warm from the cold evening.

Morgan looked around, taking time to remember the faces of his friends. Ever since that morning of the dream and breakfast with Arthur a little week ago, Morgan had come to realize that he truly wasn't alone.

Although he couldn't really tell them what was happening with him, like the man in red and the things he sometimes caused, he still had friends. Friends he had known most of his life and who, deep down he considered as family.

He wasn't broken.

Morgan's eyes fell on Will. Blond, almost golden hair, reaching just under his ears. Dusty blue eyes and a slightly yellow smile. He had known William since the first orphanage.

When all the other children had mocked Morgan, for thinking he had been able to do magic, but couldn't show them, Will had been the only one to defend and support him.

Elyse, a dark skinned girl with a contagious laugh and Pete, a tall dangly guy with a crude sense of humor, were another two, whom Morgan had met during his time at different orphanages. The four of them had no family, having left behind one way or the other, but they'd found each other and stuck together like the four musketeers.

No, Morgan was far from alone.

"So Elyse, how's married life treating ya'?" Will asked and nodged the young woman next to him. Elyse grinned and gave him a shoulder punch in return. She had been the only one of the four, who had been adopted. Getting responsible and caring caretakers, she had gone to school properly and started university, studying medicine, where she had met a guy, who she'd recently married.

"It means I have my personal servant, so it's all good." She answered and took the join Pete handed her.

"Nothing different from when you were a kid then?" He pointed out, and blew out. Elyse took a drag of the joint.

"Not entirely." She admitted and looked around at the guys, "I only have one, which is far less, than the three I had back then." She said and blinked, making the three men laugh.

It was true though.

Elyse was not just the only girl, in their group, but the youngest too and so, the three boys had spoiled her, as big brothers would their little sister.

The four of them continued to talk and laugh amongst themselves, Elyse teasing Morgan about the guy she knew he had dreamt about for years and whether or not that dream guy was gonna turn up one day. Old and affectionate teasings.

However, somehow Morgan couldn't get himself to tell them, that in fact, he had met said dream guy and had been seeing him a few times. This was another thing he couldn't make himself tell them. If he told them, they would have questions of how, when and why. Questions which Morgan himself, couldn't even answer. He couldn't tell them, not until he understood himself.

At some point, during the night, after Elyse had gone home, another group joined the three young men. Morgan knew them, having hung out with them a few times and didn't think much of it when they brought out a small plastic bag of pills.

A new drug. They had informed with excitement and taken one pill,m themselves, before passing the bag around.

This new drug, apparently, was supposed to take you on the wildest and most surreal ride, making you feel like you were flying and capable of doing anything.

The first thing Morgan thought, putting the small, light blue pill on his tongue, was that it tasted minty.

 **0_0**

Arthur was seriously starting to think about taking up the chief of MI5's offer.

He wasn't getting anywhere in his investigations. Not the murders or the explosions. Maybe the title of a MI agent would grant him access to more confidential documents, which could shine a little light upon what was happening in his city.

Arthur let out a long, resigned sigh and dropped his head on the desk. It had been months already and he was none the wiser.

It had brought nothing but sleepless nights and Arthur suspected, a beginning stomach ulcer. Maybe he should take Ashley's advice and just let the murder case go already, focus on more important things, like his upcoming wedding. Arthur groaned at the mere thought of it. Shouldn't a man be excited about his own wedding? Why did it feel like a chore to him?

Tableplans.

Decor.

Food.

Flowers.

Music.

Speeches.

Chore, chore, chores...

Arthur leaned back in his chair and looked up into his ceiling.

Should he make an invite for Morgan? Maybe that would lighten to mood, having him there.

Arthur made a face. No. No, that would defiantly be awkward, considering the things they'd done to each other.

He let out another resigned sigh and was about to drop further into his chair, when he heard commotion out side his office.

Stepping out to the general area and arrival hall, Arthur found several of his subordinate constables, struggling with holding down a group of hysteric people, men and women.

"What's going on?" Arthur asked, stepping up to a slight frightning looking receptionist.

She looked up at him, startled by his sudden appearance and stood up.

"There's been another eviction, sir." She answered and gave him a small nod in respect.

"Eviction?" Arthur asked confused, never having heard of something like this, "Another?"

"Yes sir." She answered and stepped back as a struggling constable and man came closer to her, "Buildings are being emptied and torn down sir. It's part of the new plan for the city."

Arthur stepped forward, as the man fell on his back and the constable lifted his baton to strike.

Arthur caught the baton midair and gave the constable an angry look.

"What are you doing?!" He shouted, surprising the constable who looked at him confused.

"The man was resisting arrest, sir." He explained, as if it should have been obvious. Arthur ripped the baton from the constable.

"Arrested for what?" He asked, feeling himself growing angry and annoyed, "For wanting keep his home?" Arthur guessed, not hiding his spite, "For wanting a place to feel safe?"

The constable stared at him, utterly confused and slightly scared. He opened his mouth, about to answer when another one stepped in.

"Pence." A voice spoke behind Arthur, making him turn to find Adley, an older subordinate, who had worked in the force since before Arthur was born.

"Let the constable do his job." He said as he walked to Arthur and took the baton from him.

"You knew about this?" Arthur asked feeling just a little outraged. Ever since becoming a leader in the force, he had considered Adley an ally and confidant he could turn to when his responsible had seemed heavy.

Adley nodded and gave the constable his baton.

"Orders from your father." He said and put an arm around Arthur, leading him back towards his office, "With everything going on, there's made a new plan for the city, to keep it more safe."

Arthur pushed Adley's arm away angrily and glared at him.

"You call forcing people from their homes, making the city safe?" He spat, "Safe for who?"

Adley sighed and gave Arthur a look.

"With the murders and random explosions, what's gonna be next?!" Arthur asked, feeling the anger and frustration rise within him.

"Drugs."

Arthur looked up to find his friend and closest subordinate, Lance, by his office.

"What?"

"There's a new drug in the streets." He elaborated and handed Arthur a small plastic bag with two light blue pills, "A nasty one, which according to the coroner, slowly burns the organs from the inside."

Arthur stared at the pills for a moment before looking up at Lance.

"How did you come across this?" He asked and held up the bag.

"A body was found in Hyde Park this morning." Lance answered, "A young man, early to mid twenties. The pills where found on him." He said and nodded towards the drugs in Arthur's hand, "The coroner said his organs was covered in wounds, caused by acid."

"Caused by the drug?" Arthur wanted to know and ignored the bad feeling luring at the buttom of his gut. Lance nodded.

"Most likely sir. However we haven't had the time of means to properly examine the drug yet."

Arthur sighed and turned the blue pills in his hand. He really had a bad feeling about this. "Take me to the body." He said, not realizing his voice was shaking as Lance nodded again and motioned Arthur to follow him.

 **0_0**

 **A/N:** That was it for this year, hope you liked it


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** WOW, another chapter guys! This story is literally writing itself at the moment and good thing too, cause it's still only the beginning. I've got so much in store for our characters, just you wait ;p

Oh, and a happy birthday to Colin Morgan, who turned 33 today ;)

Now, enjoy this next chapter ;)

 **0_0**

Morgan shuffled through the streets of downtown London, as he pulled his jacket closer around him.

The weather was getting colder, as it was already well into the winter, however this didn't seem to face the people in a city that always seemed to be awake.

The cigarette hung loosely between his fingers, his hands partly covered by gloves. He moved in between the people, as they talked and laughed together, heading wherever. Morgan listened to them with half an ear, imagining what it would be like if he and his friends was part of such carefree life. Not having to worry about how to get money for the next fix, one of the few things that made this life bearable. Something that would allow him to forget and escape into a better world.

He turned a corner and immediately found himself in another part of the city. The part of it that was still standing, after multiple tear downs. He heard the dry coughs, the pained groans and cries.

Morgan stopped and looked around.

The neglected buildings, old warehouses, stores with walls covered in macabre and dark graffiti, giving off a sense of despair and hopelessness.

Huddled figures sleeping on the street and people gathered around a burning trashcan. These were the people, who had been thrown out of their homes and sacrifice a life of safety, for uncertainty and a chilling cold.

Morgan still had his small apartment, but for how long?

This was, after all, what his life was.

He dried his nose in his gloved hand, before heading to the small group.

"Young Morgan." One of the men greeted and patted Morgan's shoulder giving him a decayed smile, "It's getting bloody cold, isn't it?"

Morgan knew the man well. He went by the name Foyle and had been around, living on the street, since before Morgan had become a part of the world. For some reason, the middle aged man, with the pale, dirty face and missing teeth, had taken a liking to him and taken it upon himself to show the young Morgan the ways of the street. It was still somewhat a mystery to him, how they'd both managed to still be alive, with the, not so few dangerous situations they'd been in. Morgan had lost count of how many times Foyle had saved Morgan's ass, thanks to his knowledge of the ways and wits of the street and well, Morgan's youthful ignorance and stupidity.

Morgan nodded and inhaled the last of his cigarette, before throwing it into the fire and putting his cold fingers in the pockets of his ripped jeans.

"It's a fucking mess." Another man, called Larry, said and shivered, as a cold breeze hit them, "People being thrown on the streets. Local attacks and riots." He mumbled, gliding his hands together, trying to get some warmth from them, "That fancy minister, talking about equality and safety for all, I bet he's never tried what it feels like not to be safe."

Morgan rose a brow at Larry's comment.

"Since when do you care about politics?" Foyle asked his comrades, looking between them. They looked back at him, as if he had grown an extra head.

"I do read, you know." Larry replied, causing Foyle to utter a small laugh and shake his head.

"Yeah, news headlines." He whispered leaning into Morgan and blinked at him, "What do you think, Morgan? You're still young, what are your thoughts on the current state of affairs?" He asked, giving the younger man a curious look, bringing him into the conversation. Morgan shrugged.

"Nothing. I hope to never become a part of it, if I'm honest." He said and moved his hands to his jacket pocket, pulling out a joint to light up. Morgan figures he already had enough on his plate, with figuring out what was happening to him. Having to take interest in what was happening around him, in his city, would be too much to deal with.

The other three nodded in agreement and a silence feel between them, as they all returned to stare into the flames and concentrating on keeping warm.

"It will depend on what and who you're fighting for." Someone suddenly said from beside them.

An elderly woman, with dirty grey hair and filthy rags, popped her head out of the nearby cardboard box.

"Today's politics are like the wars of old times." She said and looked directly at Morgan, "It is a war fought for a cause or a person you believe in - sometimes both." The woman added, giving him a smile, showing off her rotten teeth. Morgan held her gaze for a moment, before making a face and throwing the remains of his joint in the fire.

"Yeah well, I don't have a cause, even less a person to believe in or fight for." He replied. The woman merely kept smiling at him for a silent moment, before she leaned back into the box.

"Well, you're still young." She squeaked in a low voice, "You'll see soon enough..."

Foyle stared at the box for a moment, looking perplexed, then a smile crept over chapped lips. He patted Morgan's shoulder again and gave him a small affectionate squeeze. It was with this notion that Morgan noticed the tattoo on Foyle's left wrist. He had once asked the older man, what the three connected circles meant. Foyle had chuckled and told Morgan that it was called a Celtic triskele and was and ancient symbol of his ancestors. Morgan had given him a look with a raised brow, to which Foyle had merely laughed harder.

"She's right you know." He said and caught Morgan's eyes, "And I have a feeling that you where meant for something great, young Morgan. I'm sure you'll make us all proud one day." He winked at Morgan and held the younger man's gaze for another second, before a shattering boom resounded trough the street and a vibration in the ground.

Morgan froze and for a few seconds it was as if time had frozen as well. Complete silence following the boom and then it broke out.

Chaos.

Screams. Shouts. Sirens.

People waking up from their slums. The elderly lady from before looking back out, to see what had happened.

Questioning and confused looks exchanged.

Then panic, as people got up and started running, seemingly aimlessly, as gunfire echoed nearby.

"What the..." Larry mumbled, looking up towards the main street, just as a dozen of masked men came running, closely followed by several men in uniforms.

Morgan was pulled down on the ground by Foyle.

"Stay down kid." He whispered in a hiss, "Just stay down."

Morgan did as he was told and kept quiet, face against the cold concrete as the bullets tore through the air around him.

He closed his eyes shot and covered his ears, desperate to drown out the screams and shouts along with the occasional thump as another body hit the ground.

He didn't know how long it went on. Maybe hours or just minutes. He didn't know if it had stopped long before he decided it was safe to glance up. But when he did, the silence was deafening.

Morgan sat up slowly as he took in the sight around him. A lump got stuck in his troath as he held back a sob, tears already escaping his eyes, out of control. He had smelled it before he saw it.

The blood.

Pools of blood painting the concrete a deep red.

Then was the bodies, scattered around him and unmoving.

Masked, uniformed and rags.

Eyes closed, never to open again.

Morgan whipped his eyes with his sleeve and only just now realized it being soaked in red. Eyes wide and heart beating hard in his chest, Morgan looked down to find a pool of blood under him. However it couldn't be his own.

With a shaky breath, he glanced to the side.

Morgan let out a strained sob and sat back, as eyes landed on an unmoving Foyle and the blood under him.

"No...no..." Morgan mumbled, feeling tears coming anew and his chest tightening up painfully.

Larry, the old woman in the box, all of them, unmoving and bloody.

Morgan felt his stomach turn and cramp, chest squeezing the air out of him. Then a warmth grew in the pit of his stomach. The warmth turned hot, burning, scorching.

Morgan bend over, clenching his stomach groaning at the agonizing pain as it intensified. The scream began as a growl and grew as Morgan felt the fire spread inside him.

Windows shattered. Ground shook and pools of blood started boiling. He distantly heard the voices. He sensed the presence and movement, but he couldn't stop or control what was happening around him. Morgan leaned back and let out another scream towards the darkening skies, trying to make it all stop. However, thunder and lightning broke the sky as rain started falling hard, washing away the blood.

The chaos, the pain inside him. He wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop.

Then suddenly it did.

Silence.

Morgan's own heavy breathing the only sound breaking it.

He slowly uncovered his ears and opened his eyes. A gasp escaped him, realizing that everything around him had frozen. The raindrops stopped mid air. Several lightning lit up the dark skies. Morgan saw uniformed men frozen in the air, as if they've pushed back by something and others stopped in mid run or pointing gun towards him.

How?

"Quite impressive." A voice broke the silence followed by a clap and approaching footsteps, "To be able to control weather and stop time like this. Impressive indeed."

Morgan turned his head and got up startled by the sudden change.

He knew the voice. He would recognize anywhere and anytime.

"Y-you..." he breathed, "You did this...?"

The man dressed in the familiar red let out an amused chuckle and shook his head.

"Oh, I don't have this kind of power, Morgan." He said and stopped by a uniformed man. He graphed the helmet and twisted it. The sickening sound of cracked bones made Morgan flinch. The man smirked gleefully and continued towards Morgan, picking out a bullet, frozen in the air, heading straight at Morgan. He stopped shortly, twisting the iron bullet between his fingers, before he glanced up at Morgan, giving him a twisted grin.

"This," He said and pointed around them, "This is all you."

Morgan took a step back, shaking his head, not wanting to believe the man in front of him.

"I'm Morven, by the way." The man in red said and held out his hand in greeting, "I don't think I've introduced myself properly yet." Morgan didn't accept the hand, but merely gave him a suspicious look. The man calling himself Morven, chuckled and took his hand back.

"I told you on the train, Morgan." He began, slowly walking around Morgan, hands resting on his back, "You're a powerful one and you'll have to choose a side. If you choose us, I can help you to gain control. I can help you to use and wield your powers as you choose." Morven gave Morgan a friendly smile, "Doesn't that sound nice?"

Morgan looked down at his hands. They were still trembling. He closed them into fists, remembering the pain, the chaos he had felt inside, not only now, but a few days ago as well. He remembered the faces looking at him with fear, confusion and contempt.

He remembered the feeling of helplessness, facing the cold concrete, with the gunfire around him. Morgan looked down at the cold body of one of the few he had called friends. He saw the frozen splashes of raindrops hitting the blood pools and creating small bloody crowns.

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened and the anger and frustration growing inside him wasn't unfamiliar. They had been stubborn companions of his ever since Morgan had witnessed his mother's murder.

"I don't," Morgan began in a sneer and stepped up to Morven, inches from him as he glared at the other man, "need anyone." Morgan pushed beside Morven and headed for the main street, trembling hands deep in his pockets.

"A war is coming, Morgan." Morven called out behind him, "It has already begun. And whether you like it or not, you are right at the center of it. You both are."

Both? Morgan stopped at those words and glanced back at Morven. The other man crooked a knowing smirk.

"The detective, Arthur Pence." Morven clarified, "We know."

Then without another word of explanation, Morven disappeared in the blink of an eye.

 **0_0**

The atmosphere of the cafe was pleasant. Being small and off any of the main streets, it wasn't visited much, except for a few regulars. The bar was kept by the owner herself, a middle aged woman with a few grey hairs and a warm and welcoming smile.

For the past three years this had been Arthur's favourite spot. He spend several afternoons, after a day shift, at the cafe with a warm drink in hand and the owner always greeted him by name, asking if he wanted the usual.

This late afternoon was just like that. Arthur was nursing a hot Irish coffee, going through the last couple of days in this mind. There had been another couple of cases with the bodies of young people found like the first one. Arthur pinched his nose and swallowed hard. The images of the bodies were stuck in his mind. In his short life he had rarely seen anything like it or smelled anything like it for that matter. The bodies had been covered in open wounds, burned from the inside out. No doubt the victims had been in agonizing pain, before finally being relieved with death.

Arthur had just been greatful that his bad feeling was proven wrong. However, everytime he got news about a body found, Arthur would fear finding Morgan on the coroners table. Luckily, it still seemed that the other man was safe.

The department had gotten none the wiser with the drug and what was causing these wounds. Next step would be asking Arachnia, the major drug company, which delivered medicine to all of the country's hospitals and clinics. Arthur figured that, dealing with biotics everyday, they might have the resources to learn what the blue drug contained for it to cause such ulcers.

When the doorbell signaled a new customer, making Arthur look up. Seeing his old friend, Arthur held up his hand, letting him know where he was.

He got up to give Leo a short hug.

"Thanks for coming out." He said and sat back down, Leo sitting across from him.

"Sure." Leo said and took off his jacket, "It's been far too long since we've done this anyway." He pointed out and ordered an americano from the cafe owner, "So, what's up?"

Arthur let out a long sigh and leaned back in the chair, fiddling with the small piece of chocolate served with the coffee.

"You look troubled." Leo noted and forrowed a brow at his friend. Arthur let out a small huff. 'Troubled' didn't really seem to cut it.

"I really don't know where to begin." Arthur admitted and shook his head a little.

Leo leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.

"What about what comes first to mind?" Leo suggested, giving Arthur a waiting look. The blonde thought for a moment, trying to relax and let his mind wander.

Morgan.

The perfect feeling of the smaller man in his arms and soft, moist lips against his own. He let out a small chuckle and shook his head, not believing that with everything going on at work, Morgan still occupied Arthur's mind this much.

"Were you excited about marrying Elaine?" Arthur then asked and looked at his friend. Leo took a sip of the coffee as it was placed in front of him and looked at Arthur over the cup.

"Yes, of cause." He answered with a smile, no doubt thinking about his wife of three years, "Nervous, but in a good, butterflies in the stomach way. I was marrying the woman I loved after all."

Arthur hummed. Yes, he guessed most people in this day and age would be happy about marrying a person they've chosen themselves. Of cause, arranged marriages were still a thing in some cultures, but not in the 21th century Britain. Arthur had chosen to marry Ashley himself, so he should be thrilled about it, right?

"Why?" Leo asked, interrupting Arthur's thoughts, "Trouble in paradise? Are you getting cold feet?" He crooked a smirk and sat back, "It's completely normal Arthur. Getting hitched is terrifying for most men, just wait to the day she walks up that aisle. Every doubt the disappear in an instant."

"Will it?" Arthur asked and rose a brow at his friend. He highly doubted, that what he was feeling, whatever it was, would disappear from the mere sight of Ashley in a dress.

"I... I've met someone." Arthur then admitted and looked down at his half empty glass, not wanting to see the disappointment and disgust, which he knew Leo would show, when he continued to say what he needed to say.

"I've only met him a few times and considering who we are, we really shouldn't associate..." Arthur began, taking in a deep breath before he continued, "I can't explain why, but whenever I'm with him, it feels as if I'm with a dear old friend I've known for years. I've never felt so content and at peace, as when I'm with him and..." He took another shaky breath, clutching his hands together nervously. He really had no idea how Leo would react to what he was about to tell him, but Arthur felt that if he could tell this to anyone, it would be Leo.

"We've... done things..." Arthur said in all but a whisper, still not looking up, feeling too ashamed and embarrassed, "Everything, but the act itself and honestly... it's been amazing..."

"So..." Leo began after a long, nerve wrecking silence, "You're telling me that you're having doubts about marrying Ashley, because you've fallen in love with another man?"

Arthur looked up at this, eyes wide in surprise and shock.

"What?!" He exclaimed, "Love?! No, no I never said anything about being in love!"

Leo let out a heartfelt laugh.

"You may not have noticed yourself Arthur, but it sure sounds like that to me." He said and gave Arthur a pointed look, "In the years you've been with Ashley, I haven't ever heard you talk about her, as you just did this man."

Arthur made and face and let out a groan, dropping his head on the table. Leo reached out and patted Arthur on the shoulder.

"Don't worry mate, this is the 21th century, if you really like this guy, then go for it." He said grinning at his friend, "I'll support you, as long as it makes you happy."

Arthur glanced up at Leo, slightly concerned.

"I'm not saying that you're right about me being in love, cause there's no way I am," He told the other man stubbornly, "but should you really be encouraging me? Ashley and Elaine are old friends, remember?"

"That may be so," Leo said and crossed his arms nodding, "However, truth be told, I never really like Ashley..."

Arthur chuckled and then moved on to tell Leo about everything else that was going on. About his weekend at Barmoral Castle and the things he'd read there. How well it all seemed to fit with his dreams, which had increased as well over the past few months. Leo had joked about Arthur really being the reincarnation of the legendary King Arthur and trying to come up with a reason as to what could be happening in Britain, since the legend had reawakened.

Arthur laughed along, however deep down he felt a concern about how well it all fit together. Could it really be a coincidence or was Arthur indeed the King Arthur, having been reborn? And if that was the case, what was he supposed to do?

Arthur shook his head and moved on the to next matter.

Work.

Everyday there was something new. A murder, dead drug addict, explosion, riots and evictions. It seemed there was no end and they were stuck in this evil circle of chaos all the while the government grew more scared and made the people suffer more by raising taxes and tearing down buildings.

Leo nodded and absently stirred his coffee.

"And it's getting worse." He said after Arthur finished, "This isn't official yet, but Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland has announced their plans to break the union with England."

"What?!" Arthur exclaimed and sat up straight, completely taken aback by this news. Leo nodded solemnly.

"We were told at MI just yesterday." He explained, "They can sense that the Primeminister and his government is losing it and doesn't want to be part of it. You can't really blame them, though. It's nuts."

So not only was the people losing their homes and dying left and right, but United Kingdom was falling apart, all thanks to Arthur's father's whims and insecurities?

Arthur felt a sudden deep anger and frustration, learning this. It had cost so many lives, so much suffering and pain, to gather this country and build it into the strong nation it was and now, because of one man, it was all falling apart and people was once again suffering unnecessarily.

His people.

Arthur stood up abruptly and placed a few pounds next to the empty glass. Leo looked up at him confused.

"What's up?" He asked and stood up as well, gathering his jacket.

"This can't go on." Arthur said between gritted teeth, "I need to talk to my father." He paused by the door and looked back at Leo, "MI5 is all about national security, right? They'll fight against the government if it's a danger to the nation, right?"

Leo looked at him puzzled and was about to answer when Arthur interrupted.

"Tell the chief that I'm in." He said and pulled his jacket closer, "I'll see him at his office on Monday."

Arthur had barely stepped out of the small cafe, when the ground suddenly shook under him and a deep boom disrupted the air.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Hello everyone! I hope you all came safely into the new year.

Thank you for all your follows, likes and reviews for this story. They really mean a lot to me.

If you've noticed, I've changed the resume of the story a little, because as I'm coming further into this story, I realize some of it's focus and plots slowly changes.

Don't worry, this was a methur story from the beginning and that will never change ;)

I really hope you like this new chapter, as the plot thickens.

Enjoy! ;)

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

Morgan opened the cigarette pack he'd just bought and took out a single cigarette, stepping out of the seven eleven.

"Morgan Emerson?" A voice spoke up behind Morgan, making him turn around. He noticed the male figure and the outstretched hand, before a hard blow hit him, throwing him several meters back. Morgan let out a pained grunt as he slammed into a cold brick wall. He barely had time to recover, before another force dragged him over the ground, into a dark alley, back against a dumpster and away from the public street.

"What the…" Morgan mumbled head spinning and body aching, as he tried regaining his focus.

"We're really sorry about this." The same voice from before spoke, followed by the sound of steps.

"Considering who you are, we really don't want to do this." Another voice, a female, said regret evident in her tone.

"But there is no other option."

In the dim lights from the street, Morgan was finally able to make out two people, standing above him. Both mature adults, dressed in dark blue coats and black trousers. His eyes landed on their outstretched hands and the silver ring on their index finger. The dragon crest looked familiar to him, however he couldn't make out why.

"Do we really have to, Landon?" The woman then asked, glancing to the man next to her, "I mean, it's really _him_! If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't even-"

"You saw the prophecy, Agnes!" The man, called Landon interrupted, voice strained, "We have to. If we don't…" Landon closed his eyes and looked away, face twisted in regret, "This _needs_ to be done."

"Who… who are you?" Morgan asked and struggled to sit up, learning his body against the dumpster. He felt something warm run down his temple and winched, feeling the pain as he touched it.

The woman, Agnes, walked up to Morgan and kneeled down in front of him. She turned her hand and Morgan pulled back a little in surprise, when a light flame suddenly erupted in her palm.

"We're family." She said gently, and brown eyes furrowed in concern and regret, "Which is why we'll do it quick and painless."

"What…?" Morgan blurted out, not understanding who or what the woman was saying. Landon stepped up next to Agnes and looked down at Morgan. For a long moment he just looked at him, his face unreadable.

"Fate is cruel indeed." He then said quietly, "There's an old prophecy from the Disir, foretelling the rebirth of our founder and master. However, his return will be followed by destruction of cities and the victory of the Dark High Priestess."

"The world in the hands of dark magic." Agnes said, voice low and shaking. Landon put a hand on her shoulder in support, "And we would have lost the war." She breathed out before continuing, "What you started 1500 years ago, to keep the world safe from the cruelties of those who practice the dark arts, would have been for naught."

Morgan then realized what the two were talking about and stumbled on his legs, standing up.

"No." He said, shaking his head, "I'm not. I know who you think I am, but I'm not." He insisted, as Agnes stood up with Landon's help, "I already told you people, you have the wrong guy and I don't want to be a part of your war or whatever."

Agnes and Landon looked at each other.

"He doesn't remember." Agnes said surprised and gave Landon a puzzled look, "If he doesn't remember, then maybe we won't have to-"

"No, Agnes." Landon interrupted her sternly, cutting her off with a look, "It doesn't change anything, if _she_ gets to him, which she will, if we don't end it here."

"But he doesn't know." Agnes continued, her voice pleading, "He won't understand why."

"Maybe that's for the best." Landon said, his voice indicating that that was the end of the discussion and reached inside his blue jacket.

The blade of the silver dagger reflected in the dim light. Morgan's eyes widened, and he felt cold shivers down his spine, realizing that these two wouldn't believe him, not matter how much he tried to tell them, that they defiantly had the wrong guy. For some reason, they were hell bend on killing him. He stepped back along the dumpster, trying to back away from the two, however Morgan had barely moved, before Agnes was right in front of him, warm fingers gently caressing his cheek. She hushed him and mumbled a few words, giving him a genuinely sad smile.

"I'm truly sorry." She whispered, meeting his eyes. Morgan wanted to run, kick, scream – anything really to get away, but found himself unable to move the slightest. It was as if he was chained to the spot, unable to stop or avoid what he knew was about to happen.

"I have so many questions." Agnes continued as she caressed him gently, "So much I wanted to talk to you about." She let out a heavy, shaky breath and a small tear glistered in the corner of her eyes, "No little girl ever dreams about growing up and having to end the life of her greatest hero."

Morgan gasped.

He felt the cold blade pierce his skin.

He felt the warm blood soaking his shirt.

He felt the energy leave him, saw the black spots in his sight.

He saw the regretful and sad faces of Agnes and Landon.

Looking down, he saw the dagger plunged into his stomach.

However, Morgan felt no pain.

He stared at the two confused.

Agnes leaned forward and kissed Morgan's forehead.

"Sleep well, my dear hero." She whispered, before his legs gave away under him.

 **(...)**

Arthur stormed into his father's office at 10th Downing street, ignoring the guards and personnel, trying to stop him.

"I'm sorry sir, but you can't go in there." The guard in front of the office said, stopping Arthur, "Your father is in the middle of an important meeting, sir."

Arthur glared at the guard and pushed him away from the door.

"Good." He sneered and walked in.

Prime Minister Pence looked up from his seat at the end of a long table, when his son stormed in unannounced.

"Arthur?" He asked confused. Arthur immediately felt all the eyes on him. His father had been in an important meeting indeed, it seemed, as all ministers and influential people was gathered around the table.

"We're in the middle of something here." The Prime Minister pointed out and nodded at the people around him, "Whatever it is, it will have to wait." He said and made a dismissive gesture with his hand, before turning his attention back to the papers in front of him. Arthur knew his father's gesture all too well, having been on the receiving end of it multiple times throughout his childhood and youth.

In stead of covering back and obey his father's order, as he had done in the past, Arthur took a deep breath and stepped forward, slamming his hand into the table.

"No." He said firmly and met the Prime Minister's look as he glanced back up in surprise and mild confusion.

"You will not dismiss this, Prime minister Pence." Arthur said formally and looked at the other people around the table, "You cannot continue this madness. Forcing people from the safety of their homes in a time like this, raising taxes and cutting ties with important allies."

Minister Pence looked up at his son.

"How do you know about this?" He asked and stood up, "That is still confidential information." Arthur huffed and stood back a little, crossing his arms.

"What is?" He asked defiantly, "The fact that Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland has had enough of your cowardice?" Arthur suggested, "Well, they're not the only ones!"

The Prime Minister was in front of his son within the next minute, standing on his toes and staring straight at his son, with a stern look in his eyes.

"Do not talk to you father like that boy." He hissed angrily. Arthur merely returned the look, feeling the anger and frustration return as he realized how much more his father cared about reputation and pride, rather than what went on with the people.

"It is a ruler's sacred duty to protect, provide and care for his people." Arthur sneered back, "All of them, despite income and status. Their wellbeing should be a ruler's top priority." He took a step closer to his father and held up a pointed finger, "A good relationship with allies are important and should be fought for to keep."

The Prime Minister looked at his son for another quiet minute, then he huffed and stepped back.

"If you think it that simple, then maybe you should go into politics, huh?" He said with a twisted grin and turned away, to return to his seat.

"Well then, maybe I will." Arthur replied stubbornly, making his father stop and turn back to look at him, "I will not let you destroy what I fought so hard to build."

 **(...)**

Morgan stumbled up the few stairs to the front door. He felt completely out of place in this neighborhood and had gotten several looks from people on his way here, however, at this point, he hadn't been able to care about it. He collapsed against the door and winced in pain as he slid down. Morgan dared to move his hand and look down at the blood-soaked part of his shirt.

He had woken up to find himself in the dark alley an hour ago, dagger still imbedded in his stomach, the pain having appeared tenfold and wondering how he was still alive. At any rate, he should have bleed to dead already and yet, here he was, outside a friend's door, about to knock and ask for help, because he didn't trust people enough to go to at hospital.

Morgan reached up and knocked hard on the door behind him. It was still early and only a few people were up already. He knocked again. Harder this time, knowing that his friend was most likely not one of the early birds.

When the door finally opened, Morgan fell back, losing his support from the door and gasped in pain as his head hit the wooden floor of the entrance hall. Looking up, he found a young man standing above him, giving him an utterly confused and slightly alarmed look. Morgan sighed and rolled on his side, to get up, with some difficulty.

"You must be Caleb." Morgan said clutching his bloody stomach as he stumbled on his feet. The man rose a brow and looked Morgan over.

"Yes… and who are you?"

Morgan chuckled and took a wobbly step back. It was just his luck, that it was his friend's husband who opened the door.

"I'm Elyse' brother." Morgan said, finding it harder to breathe by the minute, as the black dots in his sight returned.

"Brother?" Caleb asked in disbelieve, "She's never mentioned a brother and you don't exactly look-"

"Oh my gosh, Morgan!"

Morgan smiled, the voice sounding as sweet music in his ears, before he collapsed, once again giving into the pressing darkness.

When he opened his eyes again, Morgan found himself in a soft and warm bed and the sound of voices in the next room.

"He can not stay here, Elyse." Caleb's hushed voice sounded through the thin wall.

"What are you talking about? Of cause he can, Caleb, Morgan is family!"

Morgan smiled to himself, listening to Elyse defending him, however he knew Caleb was right. Maybe it had been a mistake to show up here suddenly, however Morgan had no idea where else to go. His first thought had been Arthur, he had wanted to see Arthur. However, he then realized, he had no idea where Arthur lived and showing up at the police station was an absolute no go. Morgan had spent enough time in police custody to last a life time.

No, Elyse' place had seemed like the best option, as both her and her husband were medical students as well, and as such, would be able to help him with the wound.

"How you are still alive, is a mystery to me." Elyse said as she walked into the room, a bowl of water and fresh bandages in hand. Morgan sat up in the bed and moved a little as she sat down on the edge and looked at him.

"I nearly lost you yesterday." She then said and gave him a serious and worried look, "Why?"

Morgan pulled up his legs and let out a long sigh.

"I don't know." He admitted, "These two people suddenly showed up and for some reason, they wanted me dead."

"What!?" Elyse exclaimed and stood up, face outraged, "Dead?! Why?!" Then she paused and gave Morgan a suspicious look, "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Morgan replied defensively and looked at her incredulously, "I swear, I have no idea who they were. They just came out of nowhere!"

Elyse sighed and dropped back on the bed.

"What's going on, Morgan?" She then asked, voice quiet and serious as she looked at him worried, "I've had this feeling the last few times we've met; there's something you're not telling."

Morgan pulled his legs closer and rested his forehead against his knees, avoiding looking at his friend.

"I don't know." He said quietly, "I honestly have no idea." He paused for a moment, contemplating whether he should just come out and tell Elyse everything.

It was becoming too much.

Morgan felt that the attempt on his life was the last straw and now he just wanted to let it all go. He was sick and tired of all the unanswered questions, the people telling him who he was, not to mention the things he seemed to make happen and yet had no control over. Then there was Foyle and the pure chaos he felt inside, matching the chaos he saw around him.

All this would make any man go mad.

"Have you ever heard the legend of Merlin?" Morgan then asked and finally looked up at his friend. Elyse gave him a puzzled look, then nodded and smiled.

"Of cause." She said gently, "The legend of the great warlock Merlin and King Arthur – the Once and Future king. Every child in Britain grow up with those stories." She crooked her head looked at him questingly.

"It is said that King Arthur will rise again, right?" Morgan asked. Elyse nodded again.

"When Britain is in a time of need."

"Do you think it's the same for Merlin?" Morgan asked after a moment," Do you think he'll rise again too?"

"Maybe. Unless he never died and has been wandering the earth, waiting for Arthur to return. He is said to be the most powerful sorcerer ever and some think him immortal." Elyse pointed out, "The legends are a bit unclear about Merlin, after Arthur's death at Camlann. Why the sudden interest in children's stories?"

Morgan bit his lip. He had no idea how Elyse would react to his thoughts and worries. Would she laugh at him and brush it off or think about it seriously?

"These people, the ones who tried to kill me, and this other guy, they all seem to think that I'm…" Morgan paused and took in a deep breath, "That I'm Merlin." He breathed out and glanced at hesitantly at Elyse, "On top of that, I've done things happen. Things that shouldn't be possible."

A silence followed Morgan's words, as Elyse just stared at him for a long moment, her face unreadable.

Then a chuckle suddenly burst over her lips and she shook her head grinning widely.

"Sorry Morgan." She said, trying to hold back her chuckles, "I'm not laughing at you." Elyse told him, earning a look from Morgan, "It's just, it would kinda explain a lot and how cool would it be, if my brother was the legendary warlock reborn?"

"What do you mean, 'it would explain a lot'?" Morgan asked with a small huff, feeling just a tad miffed at Elyse' reaction.

Elyse continued to shake her head and smile widely as she put a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know," She said honestly, "It just makes sense, somehow. In all the years I've known you, I've had a feeling that there was something different about you. Something special. You being the most powerful warlock reborn, would fall under the category 'special'." She pointed out and winked at him.

"How can you be so calm about this?" Morgan asked and gave his friend a puzzled look, "I'm literally freaking out at the mere thought."

Elyse watched him for a quiet moment, the gentle smile never leaving her lips.

"Because I know you." She said softly, "And I trust you. Despite everything, you're one of the most loving and noble people I know. I know that what ever it means and brings, you'll do what is right."

Morgan felt a knot in his throat and tears watering his eyes at Elyse' words and pulled her in for a hug.

"Thank you." He whispered softly, "You have no idea what that means to me."

Elyse returned and deepened the hug and they fell into a comfortable silence.

"Does this mean I should start calling you Merlin?" Elyse asked with a hint of humor, "Or do you maybe prefer Emrys?"

Morgan let out a heartfelt laugh and pulled back, meeting his friend's playful look.

"No, that's defiantly too weird."

 **(...)**

The old castle was shrouded in darkness and it was silent as the grave. Every small bird and animal fled or hiding away in their hollows. It appeared abandoned and forgotten, when the long lights and sound of a single car broke the darkness.

There was a hard knock on the door and a table lamp was lit in the dark room. With an annoyed sigh, she got up from the arm chair and headed for the hall.

She pulled the heavy wooden door open and leaned against it's frame and crossed her arms, giving the person on the other side a dull look.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" She asked, not hiding her annoyance and impatience. The man looked back at her, not the slightest apologetic about having disturbed her in the middle of the night.

"Knowing you, you'd still be awake." He replied indifferently with a shrug. She huffed and turned, leaving the door open for him to follow.

"I may not sleep yet, but I do like to meditate during this time." She pointed out and headed for the castle office, "Why are you here, Morven?"

"He still refuses." Morven answered and followed the woman, closing the office door behind them. He made a face in withheld disgust, as his eyes landed on the man sitting in the chair behind the desk. Skin white as a sheet and eyes hollow, staring into nothing. He sat there, unmoving and frozen in time, something he had done for the past years and yet, Morven never seemed to get used to him. He shivered and turned his attention to the woman, standing by the dimly lit terrarium. A black tarantula moved its long legs over her bare arm as she whispered to it affectionally. A quiet moment went by like this, before she looked up and one green along with one blue eye stared at him.

"I'm asking once again;" She said and closed her eyes with a tired sigh, "Why are you here, Morven? Or should I ask; why are you here, alone?"

"My lady?" Morven questioned confused. She was inches from him in the next second and he felt the tingling sensation of small legs crawling up his arms under clothes and moving dangerously close to the spot on his neck.

"I thought I told you," She hissed close to his ear, "very specifically, I might add, what to do if he still wouldn't cooperate."

"My lady-"Morven began, but was cut off as his throat suddenly tightened, making it hard to breath and felt the small legs, settling at the back of his neck.

"Do you want me to take it away from you, Morven?" She asked, her voice dangerously low. Morven glanced at the man behind the desk shortly, before shaking his head, unable to gather enough air to utter a word.

"Then I suggest you do as you're told." She spat and took a step back. Morven let out a sigh of relief, as he felt the hold on him disappear along with the crawling legs on his neck.

"Yes, my lady." He said, having regained his voice and bowed deeply, "I'll get to it right away."

* * *

 **A/N:** That was it for now and I'm a little curious, what do you think about this character at the end, who pops up every now and then? Also, should I put up a warning for aracnophobia or is it okay?

I always love hearing from you :)


End file.
